The Guardian
by writergirl712
Summary: When Extractors steal ideas, Guardians are there to stop them. With enhanced abilities in dreams, they are paid to guard valuable secrets. But what if an Extractor posed as a Guardian's projection to learn her secrets? Never trust your own mind...
1. A Demonstration

**A/N:** The idea for this story came soon after I watched Inception (for the second time), but I wanted to develop the plot and characters more before I started writing. Basically, I'm taking the concepts from the movie and transfering it to another main character and setting (Washington, DC in the US). A few characters from the movie appear in the story, though. I'm only posting a little to catch people's interest and see if they want to learn more, so read and let me know!

**Disclaimer: **In no way do I own the movie Inception or its characters (unfortunately).

* * *

_"I don't think you understand the danger you're requiring my client to put herself into, Mr. Blake. She'll be under constant threat, both in and out of her dreams. Many people will attempt to kidnap her and extract your secrets."_

_"Which is why we will hide the information, Ms. Franks. If questioned or put into a dreamstate, Ms. Winters can truthfully reply that she does not have knowledge of the location of the information."_

_"Not possible. She has to know the location of the secret if she's going to protect it."_

_"Then what stops Ms. Winters from learning the secret and selling it to rival companies?"_

_"Trust, Mr. Blake. Trust, and a whole lot of money."_

* * *

"Unarmed, Mona. We want you giving them a good impression."

I snorted in derision but tossed my handgun onto the bench beside me anyway.

"That doesn't mean I can't take one of theirs, does it?" I asked. Slipping a hand in my jeans pocket, I fingered the worn silver dollar, warming it with my touch. Even though we were a room and an earpiece apart, I knew Lily was smiling on the other end.

"Knock yourself out, kiddo," she replied, falling back from her temporary professional mode. She must've been out of earshot of the clients by then.

I fell silent as I drew out my coin, angling it in the fluorescent lighting of the locker room. The surface was too dull to reflect much light, but the engraving of the walking lady liberty could still be made out. With an expert flick of my fingers I sent the coin twisting through the air, then with one deft move caught it with one hand. Placing it on its edge on the bench, I flicked one side of the coin until it was spinning in place. Then I waited, counting down slowly under my breath.

"5...4...3...2...1."

It spun, and spun, and continued spinning on the spot without even the slightest waver. Satisfied, I plucked the coin from the hard surface and pocketed it once more. Knowing Lily was still listening in, I asked casually, "So do they care if the guys come out alive?"

"They told me to tell you, if you're as good as I say you are, put them out of their misery."

I set my face into the familiar professional grim expression as I drew my hair back into a ponytail.

"Then I guess this is gonna be a merciful demonstration."

* * *

Nine hundred square foot mat, padded pillars placed upright randomly on floor.

Ten men, solid build. Muscled. Roughly 180 to 200 pounds.

In suits, adequate predictability of torso muscle movement.

No organization of group movement.

Armed with standard handguns.

Ten.

I dove behind the nearest pillar as all ten guns went off in my direction, their bullets embedding themselves into the door behind me. The ten men were advancing quickly, without any caution. The second the closest one was a foot away, approaching on my left, I grabbed his gun hand and twisted his wrist. As his back hit the ground, I closed my own hand over the gun and aimed it at the owner. One shot, close-range. He didn't even have time to figure out what was going on.

Nine.

Two shots fired in rapid succession took out two more of the men, but by the second one they'd ducked out of sight and begun firing back, forcing me to take shelter behind the pillar once more. I waited until they realized that I wasn't budging, that they'd have to cease fire and approach. When I heard the slow, careful shuffling of their feet on the mat, I gripped the gun more tightly in my right hand - and leapt out at them.

Seven.

I ducked the powerful swing from the closest man, then plowed my own fist into his gut. He landed a few feet back, gasping for breath, then slumped to the ground from the bullet I sent into his forehead. Cartwheeling one-handed towards the nearest man, I took advantage of his surprise to thrust the heel of my left hand upward against his nose, forcing the bone to break and drive itself into his brain. He dropped.

Five.

One spin, and the man running towards me fell as I lashed out with my right fist and caught him in the throat. As he gasped for air through his crushed windpipe, I delivered a single bullet into his forehead, then another through the man who'd jumped out from behind a pillar to catch me unawares. Dropping behind the closest pillar, I took a deep breath and waited for the others left. They would be more cautious now that they'd seen what I could do. More cautious, and more determined.

Three.

They continued punching holes in the pillar I was hiding behind, seemingly never running out of bullets. Extra guns? Most likely. When it seemed like the pillar was riddled with bullets, I decided to do the last thing they'd expect. Storing away the gun in my hand, I gripped the tall padded cement pillar, bent my knees, and with a good amount of exertion-

-lifted it into the air.

"Shit," I definitely heard one of them say, before I hurled the 350 pound pillar at them. The three of them had been slowly working their way towards me, which meant that they were out of the open and too far away from any other pillars to dodge behind. Gravity pulled my pillar towards the ground, but not before it caught two of the men in the chest and crushed them against the floor.

One.

The third one, who had been in the back of the group, was lucky enough to avoid being hit, but as soon as I'd thrown the pillar I'd sprinted towards them. Vaulting one-handed over the fallen pillar, I drew out my handgun with the other hand. The last remaining opponent, who'd hunkered down to brace himself, looked up in time to see me land lightly in front of him, gun aimed at him. I didn't even spout out a witty remark.

Zero.

* * *

"As you can see, Ramona has extraordinary abilities in this state."

As I turned away, I could hear Lily delivering the clincher to the client on the opposite side of the two-way mirror. The floor was now clean of bodies, though a few splatters of blood remained framed against pillars or pooled on the ground.

"She has superhuman speed, strength, and endurance. She's been disciplined in this field since a young age, and therefore has more experience than most Extractors."

I picked my way around the fallen obstacles, then burst through the door to the locker room. Inside, I headed straight for the bathroom, then stopped in front of the nearest sink. Turning the old-fashioned silver knob for cold water, I dunked my head under the constant flow.

"Besides armed and unarmed combat, she has been trained in architecture, marksmanship, and deception."

My hair dripping with water, I shut off the water and made for the bench. Drawing out the silver dollar, I spun it on the bench, watched as it revolved in a perfectly circular blur, and waited for the words I wanted to hear.

"To put it simply, she's the best Guardian in the business. You won't find a better deal than this."

Picking up the handgun resting on the bench, I switched off the safety. There was a moment of silence on the other end of the earpiece as I waited. Finally, the client spoke.

"Well, Ms. Franks, I can't think of any reason to refuse your offer. We have a deal."

Pointing the gun to my temple, I pulled the trigger.


	2. April 8th

**A/N:** Thanks to fangirl1234 for the review!

* * *

Ramona Winters' eyes flew open as she breathed in deeply, ignoring the dull throbbing of her temple and the ghostly feel of water dripping down the back of her neck. For a moment she stayed in place, staring up at the white plaster ceiling as the last remnants of the dream trickled to her conscious mind. It took time and practice to remember these dream events, but it was still possible to recall them.

Turning her head, the young woman viewed the rest of the room: a circle of thirteen comfortable reclining chairs, ten of which were now empty. She occupied one, as did her Broker Lily, and a smartly-dressed man in a suit. Lily and the client were still under, though a glance at the metal suitcase in the center of the circle revealed that they had about one minute left in real time, or twelve minutes in dream time.

Without waiting for them, Mona ripped out the small needle taped to her wrist, got to her feet, and left the conference room, heading for the nearest bathroom. It was typical for one in an office building - five stalls, three sinks, large mirrors. In an effort to be environmentally friendly, the building's designer had decided to include motion-sensor paper dispensers, though the sinks were equipped with old-fashioned silver faucets. Loosening one of these on the middle sink, Mona let the cold water pour into her cupped hands, then splashed it hurriedly over her face.

As the icy water chased away the last few traces of fog from her mind, the young woman strode over to one of the long counters stretching under another expanse of flawless mirror. Digging into her gray dress pants, she pulled out a silver coin. A flick, and it was spinning on the surface, only a blur. Mona's eyes never left the rotating coin as she counted under her breath.

"5...4...3..."

With a wobble and a clatter, the silver dollar fell on its side, revealing the American eagle spreading its wings. Breathing a sigh of relief, Mona closed her eyes briefly, then opened them to stare at her reflection. A twenty-two year old young woman stared back at her, light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and wispy bangs now dripping with water. Her eyes, dark brown and constricted from the bathroom lights, had the familiar slightly unfocused look of someone coming from a heavy dream.

She blinked, and the look was gone.

* * *

"Hey, there's my girl."

Mona looked up from the sitting room chair to see Lily walking through the doorway, smiling triumphantly. She was clutching a sheaf of papers, no doubt the documents for the deal, and slipping them into her purse. When Mona got to her feet and joined her in heading for the elevators, the Broker immediately began chatting away.

"We're due next Tuesday, same time, same place," the woman announced as they entered the elevator. When the doors closed and they began descending to the first floor, she continued, "This deal is big, really big. We're looking at more than three weeks, maybe four. That means almost double the pay. I know Samantha wants a bigger check for the new architecture plans she's teaching you, so this is just perfect."

For the first time, she noticed Mona's silence. "Hey, you ok? Four weeks isn't too much for you, right? I know we talked about it, but in case you changed your mind since then..."

Mona shook her head, eyes on the descending floor numbers.

"It's not that. I can handle four weeks."

Lily raised one eyebrow. The elevator door dinged, signaling the first floor, and they exited the elevator, entering a spacious lobby of smooth white floors and glass walls. Sunlight poured through, illuminating the scene.

"Then what? You did great back there."

Mona shrugged as they handed in their guest identification cards to the front desk and made their way out of the building and onto the street. On the sidewalk, Lily hailed a cab with a casual wave of her hand.

"It's the eighth," Mona said finally as they waited for the taxi to pull over. When the Broker turned her head to look at her quizzically, she clarified, "April eighth." As comprehension dawned on Lily's face, Mona continued, "I was just thinking that this wasn't what Bryan had in mind when all of this started out."

The cab slid to a stop in front of the two women and they got in the back seat, Lily shutting the door behind her.

"Thirteenth and G, northwest," the Broker ordered the driver, who glanced back at the two formally dressed women, who were about ten years apart in age. Ignoring him, Lily turned her attention back to Mona. "Kid, I don't think Bryan had a specific plan in mind when he started training you. And what's wrong with what we do? I mean, look at where we are." The woman gestured out the window at the clean, modern buildings rising into the sky. "The center of the world's most powerful country. There are worse places to be. And worse jobs than this." She looked back at her companion. "Just the fact that we live here means that we're not too bad off."

Mona shrugged.

"Yeah, I know. But you're not the one who has to do the dirty work." She glanced out the window. "I feel like a few more years of this and I'll start losing some of my morals."

Lily rolled her eyes.

"But I have to _sell_ the dirty work and call it a deal," she replied. Smiling, she shook her head. "As for the morals thing, don't worry about it. At least we're doing the protecting, not the stealing. The dirty work just naturally comes with it."

The cab slowed to a stop, and the Broker handed the driver a handful of bills, then got out of the car. As Mona followed suit and shut the door, the two women looked at each other. "At least you're an expert in your field, which by the way, is the field of the future."

Mona snorted in derision.

"Right. The _illegal_ field of the future, you mean."

Lily merely laughed.

"Hey, a job's a job. At least you can say that you're kickass at it. Literally."

* * *

"Ramona?"

I continued staring out the glass window at the café across the street. There were spindly metal tables and chairs grouped under various umbrellas, under one of which a young man was sitting, drinking from a mug. Coffee, maybe.

"Ramona? Are you listening?" I felt tempted to ignore Samantha's voice, but I knew she'd get annoyed if I did.

"Yeah," I said, still watching the young man. He was observing the people going by, his gaze moving from person to person. He was decent looking, with a barely-contained mop of curly black hair, a strong nose, and steady eyes. I stared at those hazel eyes, feeling unease stirring in me. They were all too familiar.

I heard Samantha walking towards me, her heels clicking on the ground.

"I finished the tour, and all of it looks good," the Architect told me, satisfied. "I like the cubicle maze touch, though I think you'll need more than one stairwell, just in case."

"Mhm," I replied, distantly processing her words. The young man was now thoughtfully watching a couple talking animatedly nearby, his gaze glued onto them as if he was listening. As I continued staring, his eyes flicked in my direction. I managed to hold his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away. I knew those eyes. They were the exact same color, but with less intensity - more focused, maybe, but less intense.

"Ramona, what in the world are you looking at?" I turned to face Samantha, an aging but sprightly woman and one of the best teachers of architecture that I knew. Her white hair was drawn back tightly into a bun, emphasizing her narrow face and gray eyes.

"I thought I saw someone familiar," I told her, shrugging. When I looked back outside at the café, the young man was gone. Behind me, I knew Samantha was tapping her foot with impatience.

"It wouldn't be the first time," she sighed, but I shook my head.

"Not this kind of person," I said. "This person isn't supposed to be here. Not in the dreamstate, and definitely not in reality." When Samantha began tapping her foot again - she was never a fan of ambiguity or indirectness - I turned to face her. "He's dead," I stated flatly. "So, he shouldn't be here."

Samantha was less than sympathetic.

"It's not unheard of," she replied dismissively. "If you're cooping up something in your subconscious that has to do with whoever this person is, I'd suggest you deal with it before it becomes a problem."

I just nodded, though I knew that it would be pretty low on my priority list. Before dealing with whatever was manifesting itself in the form of a projection, I had to figure out what that thing was. And that included me diving into my subconscious and facing the deepest parts of my mind, which was something I wasn't too fond of doing. No one was, really. There were some truths that were hard to face, and some lies that needed to be left alone.

I changed the subject.

"Samantha, you've been doing this for years, right?"

She looked at me slightly suspiciously.

"Yes, when the concept was first being invented. Why?"

I looked outside once again, this time watching a bridge build itself across the busy road. Pedestrian projections immediately began crossing it.

"Do Guardians ever die in this field?" I asked quietly. "Does anyone ever decide that destroying the idea is better than stealing it?"

Samantha was uncharacteristically silent for a long moment.

"I'm sure there have been cases," she replied finally, her voice just as quiet. "But in my experience, most people find that it is more valuable to steal an idea and make their own profit off of it. Few are willing to put in the money for Extractors for nothing." I could imagine her squinting suspiciously at my back. "Why? Do you feel unsafe?"

I shrugged.

"Not really," I said. "It was just a theory." I knew Samantha wanted to pursue the subject and ask more questions, probably fearing for my state of mind, but I changed the subject again. "So where should I build the other stairwells?"

* * *

**A/N:** As you probably noticed, I switch between first and third person, depending on whether the characters are in the dreamstate or in reality (though I have to admit that writing in first person is more fun). Strangely enough, I usually write in third person, since I usually prefer reading in it. Also, I'm thinking of shortening the story instead of drawing it out for too long like I had orignially planned. Thoughts? Thanks for reading!


	3. Delivery

**A/N:** Thanks to DancingintheRain131 for the review!

* * *

"Going casual now, are we?"

I glanced down at my outfit - dark jeans, black boots, long red cardigan over a gray shirt - then looked at Lily.

"The deal's already made, right?" I shot back, but I was smiling. Lily always nagged me about meeting clients in my casual dress mode. "Anyway," I added, fingering a frayed hole in my jeans, "fighting in a pantsuit kinda sucks. Too limiting."

Lily just grinned.

"Then I guess the job of making a good impression is up to me," she replied. During the three years I'd known her, I'd never seen Lily in anything besides a pantsuit. She always changed up the colors, but it was always the same getup. I guess you could say the same thing about me. Growing up surrounded by formally-dressed army guys had given me a permanent love of casual clothes.

"So do you like the scenery?" I asked, changing the topic.

At my question, Lily looked around, taking in the environment for the first time. We were leaning on the wooden rails of a boardwalk next to a nondescript beach, the fierce sun veiled by clouds studding the brilliantly blue sky. Behind us, rows of vendors selling souvenirs, food, and drink stretched from left to right in a disorganized mess. In front of us, adults reclined in the sand, children splashed in the sea, and young men and women eyed each other appraisingly. A light breeze smelling of salt swept by us, and I closed my eyes, breathing it in.

"Here he comes."

I opened my eyes, but the first thing that caught my eye wasn't the three businessmen strolling down the boardwalk towards us. Instead, it was the young man with curly black hair and steady eyes that was standing on the beach a few yards down. Dressed in beach shorts and a t-shirt, he was flying a red kite that was swaying in the wind. As I stared at him, he shifted his position to better manage the kite, then unrolled a few feet of string. What was he doing here?

"That's strange. They're armed."

After a wavering second, I turned my gaze over to the suited men walking towards us. It was the client and two others, probably bodyguards. All three of them betrayed their hidden weapons by the slight bulges under their suits. As they came nearer, I recognized the bodyguards as two of the guys I'd fought during the demonstration. When all three of them stopped in front of Lily and me, I nonchalantly shifted my weight to my back foot and hooked my thumbs into the back pockets of my jeans. If anything went wrong, I could easily grab the handgun tucked into my waistband. For now, I was the picture of relaxation.

"Ms. Franks, Ms. Winters. Thank you for setting this up."

The client was some kind of business hotshot, a man who'd inherited an enormous multinational corporation that specialized in infrastructure overseas. Word was that the company wasn't averted to bribes. I'd also heard that they were sometimes a vessel for laundered money. Whatever his company did, the client didn't _look_ dishonest. He was plain, almost forgettable. Standing on either side of him, the two bodyguards towered over his slight frame.

Lily put on her bright professional smile.

"It's no problem, sir. Creating scenery is hardly a chore for Ramona."

I nodded at the two bodyguards, who nodded back expressionlessly. Hopefully they didn't take our previous encounter personally. But it seemed like they were more preoccupied with our surroundings. Although their eyes never left us, they seemed to be aware of everything that went on around us. Brushing that aside, I switched my attention back to the client and Lily. From the way she was acting, she'd never met him. It wasn't particularly unusual; sometimes she went through the entire bargaining process with the client's representative, without ever meeting the client himself. In some cases, like this one, we never even learned his name. But in every case, the client had to be there himself for the first and last step.

"Yes, the Guardian. It's a pleasure to meet you." I shook the client's hand, noting the way his buttoned blazer pulled against the outline of the gun in his vest pocket. What was with the weapons? And his bodyguards' wariness? Did he expect us to attack him or something?

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, sir," I replied, pasting on a friendly smile. When he responded with a smile just as fake, I decided to go with the obvious question. Lily would scold me later, but I had to know. I hated duplicity, which was ironic since I worked in the dream business.

"Is there a particular reason why you and your bodyguards are armed, sir?" I asked pointedly. "As far as I was told, this is a standard transfer."

Lily shot me a look of reproof, but I ignored it, keeping my eyes on the client. He suddenly looked uncomfortable, almost apologetic.

"Ramona-" Lily began warningly, but the client waved her away with one hand.

"Ms. Franks, it's all right. Ms. Winters has a right to know." He pursed his lips. "There have been rumors of a certain ability that a few chosen people have been gifted with, an ability to invade dreams from a distance, without needing to be connected to the same machine. They can simply fall asleep, then share the dream of anyone they choose. It's called dream telepathy." The client shrugged. "We wanted to come prepared, just in case."

I frowned, but Lily seemed unperturbed.

"You have no reason to be worried, sir," she stated calmly. "We've researched the same rumor, and I can say that it has no substance whatsoever." She smiled reassuringly. "As for your safety, Ramona has faced her fair share of Extractors before. Anyway-" she raised her eyebrows "-supernatural things only happen in the dreamstate, not reality. Any more concerns?"

Inwardly, I grinned. There was a reason why Lily had been my Broker for such a long time. The client merely shook his head, having the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

"No, of course not. Here's the information." I have to admit, when he reached into his suit's inner pocket I tensed, expecting him to pull out his gun. But he just took out an ordinary manilla envelope, which was folded in half. He held it out to me, and without a word I took it, folding it one more time and slipping it into my pocket.

Lily folded her arms.

"Anything else, sir? I assume your representative told you about the standard procedure. After the transfer it's best if you leave right away so Ramona can hide the information."

The client paused, then seemed to concede.

"Yes, of course. Excuse my hesitation." He looked around. "How will this be done?"

I indicated a bench sitting a few feet away, situated near the edge of the boardwalk where the railing had been taken out. Below the wooden boards of the boardwalk were several feet of empty air above the beach sand.

"If you sit on the bench with your backs to the beach, you could tip backwards with one push," I explained. "That should do it." After one last round of handshakes, the client and his bodyguards headed over to the bench. Lily and I watched, slightly amused, as they seated themselves and, side by side, tipped backwards over the edge of the boardwalk. As soon as they'd disappeared and the bench hit the sand with a soft thump, Lily turned on me.

"What was with the grilling?" she demanded, dropping her professional facade.

I shrugged. My eyes had gone straight back to the young man with the kite.

"They were acting shifty," I replied dismissively. "And I wanted to know why."

Lily looked like she wanted to continue the argument, but she seemed to notice my inattentiveness. Following my gaze, she squinted at the young man I was staring at.

"Something wrong?"

I shook my head quickly and looked away, focusing on the vendors instead.

"No, just a thought."

"Who is he?" Lily could be so persistent sometimes. "Ex-boyfriend or something?" She cocked her head to the side. "He looks your type."

I rolled my eyes.

"I don't _have_ a type," I retorted. "And he's just a regular projection." No need to let her know I was still being plagued by some nagging feeling, whatever it was. That's what the young man had to be - a projection or manifestation of something I was cooping up. Of all the times to appear in my subconscious and remind me something was wrong..."Stop staring!" I hissed, tugging on Lily's arm. "Projections act like people, remember? He'll think you're interested, or I am."

That made her laugh.

"And that would be such a crime, wouldn't it?" she said wryly. "Anyway, that reminds of a couple of things." I waited patiently for her declaration, resisting the temptation to roll my eyes again. "One," she began, ticking them off on her fingers, "you need to meet someone and get some happiness in your life. You never go out anymore and you never have fun." When I opened my mouth to protest, she continued, "Two, try sprucing yourself up a little more next time we meet the client, okay?" She ignored my glare. "Three, go hide the information before we run out of time." When I just looked at her, waiting for anything else she wanted to pile on top of my things to do, she just grinned at me. "That's it! Run along, now."

After mockingly giving Lily the one-finger salute, I turned on my heel and sprinted away, the manilla envelope in my pocket. But as soon as I disappeared from sight, my smile faded. Lily meant well, but she didn't get it; when kidnapping and dream-diving were everyday occurrences, dating wasn't exactly high on my priority list.

* * *

"Up and at 'em, kid."

Mona opened her eyes to see Lily standing next to her chair, arms folded.

"You've got buildings to design, dummies to punch, that kind of thing," Lily continued, striding over to the silver suitcase placed on a coffee table. It was set in the middle of a circle of reclining chairs, five of which had been occupied recently. When Mona disengaged herself from the sedative wire, the Broker wound the wire back into the machine and snapped the suitcase shut. The Guardian sat up and inspected her wrist. Luckily, someone had invented a needle thin and smooth enough to break the skin and inject sedatives, but without causing bleeding.

"Are we supposed to be meeting the client again or did he already leave?" Mona asked, eyes on her wrist. Years of taking sedatives to go into the dreamstate had caused a tiny, permanent scar to form. She was used to the prick of pain that accompanied the needle every time, but it still left a reminder of what her life had been dedicated to - what her brother had dedicated her life to.

"He already left," Lily responded, picking up the suitcase. "No doubt to keep a low profile. His rep said we won't see him except for deliveries." The Broker crossed over to the door, then paused. "Hey, Mona?"

The young woman looked up. "When I said you should get out more, I meant it. You don't want your whole life to revolve around this dream stuff. It's not healthy." As soon as the Broker left, Mona just shook her head.

"Too late." Her scar was a reminder of that.

* * *

"Hey."

Startled, Mona turned away from her inspection of a basket of apples, to see a familiar-looking young man standing a few feet away. Like her, he was carrying a reusable grocery bag.

"Uh, hi." How did she know him? Probably not from work; most of the guys that she met at work were either important people or their bodyguards. And she would remember if she'd punched him in a dream. He was tall, thin, with messy sandy-blond hair and a narrow frame. Nope, definitely not bodyguard or important person material. He looked like she could knock him unconscious with one punch. Or her dream self could, at least.

"I'm Josh," the young man explained. "I live on your floor?" It was more like a question that a statement, but instantly Mona knew he was right. She briefly remembered passing him on the stairwell or in the hallway a few times. But she'd never actually talked to him before, just given him a small nod or smile in greeting.

"Oh, right." She smiled at him, but it was a polite, ill at ease smile. "I'm Mona." There was a second of awkwardness as Mona inwardly debated whether it was too formal to shake hands, but in the end, she solved it by slipping her hands into her jean pockets.

"I didn't know you went to the farmer's market, too," Josh said finally, breaking the awkward silence between them. Mona just nodded, but her eyes were already drifting away from him and wandering over their surroundings. To say this was uncomfortable would be an understatement. Even the vendor selling the apples next to her seemed to sense this, because he was determinedly looking away from them as if he wanted to disappear from their presence. Mona felt exactly the same way.

"Yeah, usually every week or so," she replied, shifting her weight uneasily. "Gotta stock up on the groceries and everything." Why was it so hard to have a conversation with someone? How did other people do this? Maybe Lily had been right.

Josh was nodding, his head bobbing eagerly.

"Yeah, me too. Actually, I'm getting some stuff for the floor party tomorrow tonight." At Mona's blank stare, he looked surprised. "The one we have every month?" Blank stare. "You've gone to one, right?"

Mona gave him a wry smile.

"Guess I missed the memo," she remarked, as something twisted painfully in her chest. Josh's expression had gone from being embarrassed to sympathetic. He actually felt bad for her, that the apartment floor was shutting her out from whatever parties and get-togethers they had.

"Well, you're definitely invited to the one tomorrow tonight," he told her, belatedly trying to salvage the situation, which had become even more uncomfortable. "It's in room 403, at 8. You should come."

But Mona was already retreating.

"It's okay, I'm kinda busy tomorrow anyway," she said, smiling apologetically. She took a step back, her hand going to her the strap on her bag like she was ready to flee. "Look, I've got to go. I'll see you around, okay?"

Josh was still giving her that sympathetic look.

"Yeah, I'll see you around."

Turning, Mona walked away with the her remaining pride and dignity. She hated when Lily was right about these kinds of things. She needed to forget what had just happened, and she needed to lift that heavy aching feeling in her chest. It felt uncomfortably like misery. Luckily, by the time she'd walked the five blocks to her apartment, thinking about new architectural designs, the memory of her encounter with Josh had vanished.


End file.
